On An Ice Planet
by CamelotKnight
Summary: Just what the title says, folks. Set in 2ABY, right after they move the Rebel Base to Hoth. Featuring our favorite Rogues.


**In case someone doesn't know it yet, I don't own any of the characters. That credit goes to George Lucas and…Stackpole, I think.**

 _In a galaxy far, far away…_

The cockpit door slid open and Wedge stood up slowly, grimacing as a blast of freezing cold wind hit him instantly. He took a quick cursory look of the hangar bay, with its clumps of snow scattered here and there, then at the three other Rogues, carefully climbing out of their cockpits and staring at the view from the open bay doors. Wedge couldn't restrain a slow, rueful smile. _What have we gotten ourselves into?_ he thought to himself.

Then he pulled himself out of the cockpit and climbed down the ladders, joining the other Rogues that had formed a group in one corner of the bay. Tycho flashed him a quick smile that he instantly returned. The guy might be a former Imperial, but his morale was good, he decided. Tycho was one of the few people who could smile on an ice planet. Hobbie was too busy looking around him to greet Wedge; even if he had seen Wedge approaching, he didn't think the dour pilot would have smiled in greeting. Wedge had hardly ever seen Hobbie smile.

Wes…Wedge knew from looking at the Tanaabian pilot that Wes would be the grumpiest, the sorriest. He wasn't wrong. "Ice," Wes said mournfully. "It had to be ice. Why did it have to be ice?"

Tycho shrugged. "Well, you know, distance from the sun, temperature, wind, pressure, goodness knows what else. I'm afraid Geography is not my strong point. Ask someone else."

Wes shot him a betrayed look. "Imperial humour. Very funny. We're dead."

"Not if you wrap up warm," Hobbie said unexpectedly.

"And avoid the many predators out there," Wedge said solemnly. "I've heard the animals on Hoth are particularly vicious."

Wes brightened up a little. "So you know about this place?"

Wedge shrugged. "Just that it's an ice planet in the Anoat sector, mostly abandoned, a wide variety of fauna with extremely sharp teeth and a tendency to kill."

Wes' shoulders slumped. "We're dead."

Tycho prodded him with an elbow. "Wes, you're supposed to be a cheerful, happy, optimistic pilot. What happened?"

"I left my bag of light-hearted merriness on Yavin IV," he mourned. "Actually, it refused to come with me."

"Too bad," Hobbie said. "Could have come in handy. I know of more than a few people who're going to be grumpy." He turned as the familiar figure of the Millenium Falcon flew into the hangar bay, coming to a rest next to the X-wings. "And there comes one of them," he said as Han Solo emerged, his face looking about as unhappy as Wes looked right then. Wedge suppressed a grin, exchanging a glance with Tycho.

Han walked over to the Rogues, his face temporarily growing a little bit brighter. "I see you've made it. Well, what do you think?" He waved a hand at the hangar bay and beyond, his expression clearly suggestion he knew exactly what they thought.

Wes answered for him. "It's awful, sir."

Han looked rather pleased. "Well, here's one Rebel pilot who isn't as starry-eyed as all the rest," he said.

"Careful," Hobbie said cheerily. "We're three of the starry-eyed Rebel pilots, and we can tell on you."

The Corellian didn't look overly nervous at the suggestion. "Please do. It'll do these Rebel commanders a world of good. Maybe when they hear what I have to say, they'll come to their senses."

"I think they already know what you've to say," Wedge said drily. "You've made your opinions loud and clear, in every sense of the term."

"Not to be disrespectful or rude, sir," Tycho said, "But if you're so sure that the Rebels are going to lose this war, why help at all? Why not just fly off? I hardly think anyone's going to try and stop you."

Han grinned at him. "I'll let you know the answer to that when I've figured it out myself." His next words were drowned out by the sound of the next convoy entering the bay–about half a dozen cargo ships, flanked by four X-wings and four Y-wings. Wedge recognized one of the X-wing pilots as Luke, and another as Dak, a newly joined Rebel. The other pilots he could vaguely recognize, but couldn't place.

Luke and his colleagues landed next to the other X-wings, and they began to scramble out. All of them, excepting Luke who'd been there before, had the same dumb-struck facial expressions as Wedge and the others had had. Han frowned darkly as Luke landed. "And there's the source of all our present problems."

Wedge winced as Wes asked carefully, "Sir?"

"Why, don't you know?" Han asked with surprise. "Luke was the one who found out about this planet. He crash-landed here while escaping from TIE fighters, and somehow, he got this weird, wacko idea into his head that this could be a very good Rebel base indeed."

"Nobody told me," Wes said. Then he looked suspiciously at Wedge. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Wedge bit his lip. The truth was that he and Luke suspected that if Wes, the unofficial Prankster of the Rebellion, knew about Luke's being the main reason for Hoth becoming the new Rebel base, Luke's life could suddenly become very miserable indeed. So they'd together decided to keep the information from him. Apparently Luke hadn't warned Han about that.

Tycho and Hobbie, who both knew about Luke's crash-land and his decision, were currently struggling to keep grins off their faces. Wedge shot a baleful glance at the two and made a mental note to give them a terrible time during their next simulator battle. "Sorry, must've slipped my mind," he said sheepishly.

Wes looked cynically at him. "Maybe your _mind_ has slipped altogether," he said.

Wedge was saved from thinking up a reply when he saw Luke waving to him. "Duty calls. Gotta go."

As he jogged off, he could hear Wes saying, "You knew about that, didn't you?" and Hobbie replying, "Well, Wedge did tell us not to tell you, and being good, dutiful little Imperials, we had to follow the orders of our superiors," followed closely by Tycho's chuckle.

Wedge gritted his teeth. Forget about giving them a terrible time during simulator battles, he was going to give them a terrible time all through the week, and maybe even the whole month, if he felt particularly vicious.

The whole day was used up in scouting and flying. By the time they were allowed to retire, all the Rogues were feeling as though they'd gone a few rounds with a bantha. Wes, Wedge, Tycho and Hobbie had a room together, and they were lying on their bunks, thoroughly tired out and very cold.

Wedge began counting off. Any moment, Wes would start complaining. One, two, three…

"Ice."

Wedge grinned to himself. That hadn't taken very long.

"It _had_ to be ice." Wes, apparently, wasn't capable of saying anything else. "Why, _why_ , is it ice?"

Tycho, lying on the opposite bunk, lifted himself up on an elbow and glared up at Wes. "You know, if you're so interested in knowing about that, why can't you go ask some meteorologist or something and leave us alone? All we poor pilots know is how to fly."

Wes was in the bunk above Wedge's, so he couldn't see his face, but he could imagine what the guy's face looked like right then. "You know, you're not as funny as you think you are."

Tycho lay back down with a sigh. "Wasn't trying to be funny."

Hobbie, in the bunk above Tycho's, said, "Wes, this is an ice planet and it's going to be an ice planet forever–unless the Empire makes a second Death Star and blows it out of existence. So just get used to it."

"I can't get used to it! I've never been on an ice planet before. You know, only now do I appreciate the virtues of having a base on a planet like Yavin."

"A little too late for that, don't you think?" Tycho asked softly.

Wes didn't reply, and for a moment Wedge thought he'd fallen asleep. Just when he was sure of the fact, Wes spoke again. "Luke had to go and crash-land here, didn't he."

The statement was so blatantly obvious that nobody bothered answering the question. Then Hobbie spoke. "You know, I've been thinking."

"Help," Tycho muttered, and Wedge grinned again.

"Maybe, since Luke's from Tatooine, the cold doesn't matter to him? After all, Tatooine is one of the hottest planets in the galaxy, what with two suns and all. He probably feels right at home here."

"Somehow I don't think so…" Wedge trailed off as the door slid open and he saw a young blonde man with a pair of bright blue eyes and in the doorway. "Hey, Luke. What's the matter?" he asked, now fully awake. If there was an attack, the emergency alarms should have gone off or, at the very least, he should have been informed via comlink…

"Relax, Wedge. No Imperials sniffing around. I just couldn't get to sleep, that's all. One of my bunkmates is snoring like nobody's business." He gave a sudden chuckle. "Apparently I'm the only one who's affected."

"Pity," Wes said sourly. He hadn't gotten over his distaste for Luke yet.

Luke peered at the figure on the bed, but didn't reply to that. "Anyone who can sleep through a thunderstorm, please volunteer to take my place."

"For your information, I can, but I really don't feel in the mood for volunteering," Wes said.

Wedge lifted up his leg and kicked the bunk above him. Wes yelped. "Mood's got nothing to do with it," he said sharply. "Go on, out."

Wes leaned over and peered down. "Boss?" he said softly.

"Yes?"

"I was just kidding."

Wedge sighed. "Wes, remind me to shoot you down in simulator practice. Sorry, Luke, I can't help you out either. Tycho?"

"Nope. I'm probably the galaxy's biggest swaggering light-sleeper."

There was a short silence, broken by a loud exhalation and Hobbie saying, "All right, all right, I'll do it." He got up stiffly and began to descend, muttering, "And just when I was beginning to get all nice and warm."

Luke stepped forward. "History will remember your sacrifice, Hobbie Klivian," he said gravely.

He snorted. "What sacrifice? I'm a heavy sleeper. Besides, anything's better than listening to Wes complain about the cold."

He left and Luke looked at Wes for a second before climbing up and settling into his bunk with a sigh of relief. "I've never felt so sleepy in all my life," he remarked.

"You haven't had much of a life," Wes said.

Wedge couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw Luke smile. "Come on, Wes, it's hardly my fault Hoth is an ice planet. Besides, if it wasn't, we couldn't even have a base here. It's because Hoth is covered with ice that it was desolate and hence, the perfect spot for a Rebel base."

"Couldn't you have crash-landed someplace else?" Wes asked. "Tanaab, maybe? Corellia? Even Tatooine?"

"Not Tatooine," Luke said. "Trust me, Wes, you don't want a Rebel base over there. Sand is worse than snow."

"And heat is definitely worse than cold," Tycho said.

"Corellia, then." Wes was insistent.

"Really, Wes," Luke said with a hint of annoyance, "it's not like I could pick and choose which planet to crash-land on."

"He already knows that. He's just trying to pin the blame on someone," Wedge said.

"Wedge?"

"Yes, Wes?"

"Don't talk about me in front of me."

"I'm not in front of you, I'm underneath you." Wedge gave the bunk another kick. "Now shut up. And this is your XO speaking. You better listen."

"Luke, he's undermining your authority. Stop him."

"Go to sleep, Wes."

Silence reigned for all of ten seconds after that, broken by a loud snoring. Tycho groaned. "He's doing that on purpose."

"Wes?"

"Yes, Commander Skywalker." A meek acknowledgment that made Wedge chuckle.

"Stop fooling around."

"Yes, Commander Skywalker."

This time the silence was much longer, and soon the only thing to be heard was the soft noises of breathing, and the much softer, barely audible hum of the generators supplying energy for the heating units. Wedge smiled. It might be cold and icy, but he didn't really mind the heat. The Rebel Alliance had scored its first major victory, their numbers were growing slowly but steadily every day, and each new rebel was as zealous as the others. No matter what it took, they would defeat the Empire…

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.


End file.
